Leaving for England
by TheRebelFlower
Summary: My rendition of what happens when Sarah decides to return to England Episodes The New Frontier to In Praise of Ben.


Leaving for England

A Liberty's Kids Fanfiction

By Isabelle Saucier

isauciervideotron.ca

March/April 2003

Copyright Notice: The Liberty's Kids characters are the property of DIC Entertainment. This story is for fun only and I would not want to infringe on their rights.

I was inspired to write this short after watching _The New Frontier_ and _In Praise of Ben_, when Sarah leaves to go back to her mother. Sorry if the dialogues from the episodes are not exact, I've seen them once and didn't tape them. :P

The road, if you could call it a road, was dusty, uneven, and she hated it. Hated, hated, hated. She hated the forest also, gigantic, majestic, dangerous. And she hated the soldier sitting next to her on the carriage. Well, no, she did not hate him. Matthew Shaws was decent and polite, most unlike that ruffian who had taken her halfway to Ohio. It had seemed like halfway at the time anyway. She hated the ruffian. She hoped she would never see him again.

Her thoughts drifted to the man she was leaving behind in Ohio. When would she see him again? He had changed so much… dressing like a woodsman, living with an Indian tribe. And the whiskers? "_Oh father,_" she thought sadly, fighting the tears in her eyes.

A bump in the road made the carriage swerve and she held down to its side absently. She hoped, prayed her father would be all right. The Indian wars were violent, unfair. She had seen how easily they had taken Indians prisoner, how some of the neighboring tribes had wanted to fight back, yet were nearly powerless in front of the colonial army.

Not that it was much better in the East. She had seen poor men in conditions she would have never even thought possible in Valley Forge, she had seen Molly Corbin take up the fight after seeing her loving husband die… he had died! Right there! They had loved each other so much… "Miss Phillips, look!" came Matthew Shaws's voice, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Sarah Phillips looked up in the direction where he was pointing. Houses. Still sparse, but a welcomed sight. They were approaching Philadelphia. "_Finally… as soon as he drops me off, I will make arrangements for a place on a ship going back to England,_" she thought.

England would be safe. It was far from all this madness, this violence, this war… it was… home. Having come here to the New World to look for her father had been a big mistake. A horrible one. She understood that now. Now it was time to go back home. To civilization. To mother.

The remainder of the trip was silent and somewhat uneventful, if you did not count the numerous holes in the paths that jingled the carriage here and there. Soon, the carriage was making its way through the streets of Philadelphia, Matthew Shaws heading for one of the local inns to settle down for the day and rest his team. He would then drop a bundle of mail to the postmaster and purchase some goods to bring back to the Ohio territory.

He helped Sarah off the carriage, and she thanked him for his trouble before leaving on foot, despite his disapproval of seeing her go away alone. To which she had argued that she knew the town very well, and that she did not have long to walk anyway.

This would have been absolutely true had she actually gone to the Pennsylvania Gazette, only a few blocks away. Instead, she took a different direction, intent on getting her passage to England as soon as she could, even if that meant paying in advance. She had some coinage on her, hidden in her skirts, she should be all set.

She was so preoccupied by her goal that she did not notice the person running towards her until he smacked right into her, embracing her with a fierce hug. "Sarah!" a boy's voice exclaimed, "You are back!"

Henri. Energetic, troublemaker if there was one, but so lovable… His thick French accent was even stronger when he was excited, she noticed. She tousled his hair even more than it was already. "Hello Henri," she said, knowing that purchasing her boat ticket would have to be postponed now that he was there, but unable to be angry at him.

She would miss him. She would miss Moses, also, and the newspaper. And James. "What are you doing here?" the little boy enquired.

"What do you mean? I just came back from Ohio, silly!" she replied, laughing a little to hide her unease.

"You are heading in the wrong direction; the Gazette is that-a-way."

"I… I had to run a few errands first," she hastily said.

"I will go with you! Here, let me take this!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, taking her traveling bag from her, "Maybe we can stop at the bakery and bring back some of those cupcakes while we're at it!" he added.

"You know, those errands can wait. Let's go back directly to the Gazette," she said in a determined tone, changing direction and walking back to Benjamin Franklin's house.

The little boy pouted in disappointment, but followed her nevertheless. They walked for a while, Sarah feeling more and more nervous as they approached the Gazette's office. How was she going to announce this to them? It would have been so much easier with the passage to England already bought…

Henri barged in the print shop, exclaiming: "Look who I found!"

Moses, the only person in the room, looked up and smiled at the young woman. "Sarah! It's good to see you! How was your trip?" the black man said from the printing press, on which he was putting a plate for a new Gazette page.

He left the press and wiped his hands on his apron before hugging the young woman. "It was… interesting," she replied, not necessarily wanting to get into details.

"Did you find your father?" Henri asked as he put her bag on the floor next to the stairway to the rooms.

The young woman nodded, fond memories of her father making her smile. "He has whiskers now, and ironically, looked happier than he did in England," she replied.

She controlled her trembling and tears, like the English lady she was, but it would not have taken much for her to spill out her intentions right then and there. It would have been wrong. She was not prepared. "Why don't you go unpack? Then you can rest a little, and we'll have dinner as soon as James comes back from buying ink," Moses offered, before returning to the press.

"Do you want me to heat up water for a bath?" Henri asked.

"Yes, I would like that very much, thank you," she replied, ruffling his hair as she walked past him to reach the stairs.

She came back down a little later to help with dinner, feeling cleaner after her long trip, yet nervous and sad. "_If Henri starts crying, I'll cry as well,_" she thought as she set the table.

"What's for dinner?" the French boy asked as he stormed in to the dining room.

He looked approvingly at the pot Sarah had brought from the kitchen, then went to sit down expectantly. Moses and James came in soon after, laughing at something the black man had said. "Hey Sarah, I heard you saw your dad," James said as a greeting to her.

She nodded, avoiding his blue gaze as she busied herself with putting food in plates. "I think mother would be scandalized to see what he looks like now," she commented.

"How was the trip?" he asked as they all sat down to eat.

"That… that man left me in the woods before we reached Ohio!"

Both Moses and Henri exclaimed an outraged "What?"; James began laughing.

Henri threw a piece of bread at him. "I knew I should have come with you!" he told the young woman.

"For once, I think it would have been a good idea," she sighed.

They ate in silence for a while. Sarah was picking at her food, gathering her courage. She finally put her spoon down and folded her hands on her lap. "I had a lot of time to think during that trip to Ohio," she began.

She felt them look at her, waiting. "I have decided to return to England," she finished.

She looked up when she heard James' spoon fall back in his bowl with a strange plunking sound. Henri gasped loudly. "That is what the errand was! You were going to get passage to England!" he realized aloud, standing up, "I'm happy I stopped you!" he added moodily.

He went to Sarah's and angrily kicked at her chair. "You cannot leave!" he cried, "No, no, no! I will not let you. I… I will sit on you! I will tie you down to this chair! I will make holes in your shoes!"

"Henri," Sarah began, but was cut by the little boy, who began crying loudly, flinging himself at her.

Sarah fought her tears as she hugged the boy, but was startled as James suddenly pushed his plate away from his place and stormed out of the dining room, obviously upset. Moses, although clearly taken aback by her statement, managed to remain calm. "You say you have thought about this?" he asked.

She nodded. "I will not change my mind."

"I will glue your travel bag to the floor!" Henri threatened.

The young woman shushed him gently as Moses spoke again: "I cannot force you to stay, even if you have an idea of what I think of your decision."

A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek, falling in Henri's hair. "Please understand me. After going around aimlessly in the woods for days and seeing how cruel the colonists were to those poor Indians… that was the last straw. I don't want to be a part of that," she explained.

"I will put a chair against your door and lock you in!" Henri let out, his voice muffled because his face was buried in Sarah's shoulder.

"Henri, be reasonable," she began.

"_Non_!"

"I will write."

"_Non_!"

The boy pulled away from her and sat back in his place, eating angrily. A nervous reflex, the young woman thought, wiping her eyes. "He understands. Give him time," Moses commented.

She nodded, then stood up. "Thank you Moses. I am sorry. I don't feel like eating," she said, but the black man stopped her with a gesture that meant she should not think anything of it.

She exited the dining room and entered the print shop. She thought James would have been there, but he was not. Light outside behind the house indicated that he was in the stable, taking care of the horses. "_He looked so angry,_" she thought, saddened by his reaction.

She waited for a while, hoping he would come in, hoping they could talk. Apparently, he had sensed that because he remained outside as long as possible to avoid her. Sarah finally gave up and went to her room, but had a hard time falling asleep. She almost rose from her bed as she heard James footsteps outside in the hallway, but chose to let him digest the information overnight. "_Mother, how I need you now,_" she thought before falling in a state of uneasy sleep.

Since the boat would not leave until a few days, Sarah had some time to prepare for the long trip back to England. During her last two days in Philadelphia, she packed and went shopping for some items she would need. Although he was still voicing his disapproval, Henri was a good-natured boy and helped her as he could, carrying things for her and ensuring she had plenty of writing and reading material for her journey.

James, on the other hand, was avoiding her completely. He refused to talk to her, purposefully ate at different hours—if he even were at the house at meal time—and did whatever he could not to cross her path. Sarah hated his reaction, but was unsure of how to confront him about it. She would have to catch him first, however.

Which was easier said than done. Sarah was known for her persistence, though, and did not give up. As night was setting down on her last day in Philadelphia, she went to Henri's room to set him down for the night—normally, the little boy would have protested, but humored her that time—and then stepped out into the hallway. James' door was closed, but she knew he was there.

She hesitated for a while, then came to a decision. She walked to his door and knocked. Without waiting for an answer, she turned the handle and peeked in. He was in the process of removing his shoes and looked up, his mouth set in a surprised "oh".

His gaze became harder, and he straightened up, absently tucking a lock of his unbound hair behind his ear. The gesture made her realize that she was intruding in his personal space (even more so since he was obviously preparing for bed), but it was too late to back down now. "Hello," she said gently, before stepping in and pushing the door back so that it was not completely closed, but still offered some privacy.

James put his hands to his hips, his stocking-clad legs and loose hair removing some of the seriousness in his move, but the iciness in his eyes compensating more than enough. "Polite and respectful people usually wait to be invited before coming through a door they knocked on," he said moodily.

She took a step forward. "Would have you let me in?" she asked.

"No."

"So I had the right idea when I came in without waiting," she replied.

He frowned and looked away. "What do you want?" he asked between clenched teeth.

She stepped toward him, but did not insist and sat on the bed as she felt how unresponsive he was. She flattened some imaginary wrinkle on her skirt to hide her embarrassment. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Henri reminds us every five minutes or so."

Sarah sighed and shook her head. "I don't want to part from you like this. And I don't see why you are so angry at me."

"Because you are making the stupidest mistake in your life and you won't even realize it!"

"And who are you to know what is stupid and what is not in my life?" she retorted, irritated.

She shook her hands in front of her as if to erase the whole conversation and stood up. "James, I don't want to argue with you. Not now. Let's forget about this nonsense. Please listen to what I have to say."

James crossed his arms on his chest. He was turning into a handsome man, Sarah thought sadly. If only… she pushed the thought away. He would never follow her to England. "It's not a little jolly ride for you anymore, so you decided you wanted out," he said.

"It is so much more complicated than that. Yes, I thought I would come here and could find my father easily and quickly. That this would be a wonderful new beginning for my family. I was wrong."

"As I said. Run back to mom when things don't go your way!"

"Yes, I'm afraid, I admit it! I am afraid of what is happening, of where it could go! How many times have we seen horrors? How many times have we been in danger? Grave danger at that!"

"Haven't we come out of this 'danger'? We're here, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are, but…"

"You don't trust us enough to know that we stick together through thick and thin!"

"Actually, that is part of the problem, I…"

"What, what, we're not good enough for you? You don't think we can be there for you? That I can't protect you?"

"That is not what I meant! You are being mean!"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" he spat back

"What if something really dangerous happens? What if Henri gets caught running errands between army camps? What if you get trampled by the mob looking for the piece of news for the Gazette? I could not stand that!"

"So you run away. Really supportive. You want a medal?"

He could not help being harsh. It hurt so much to know she was leaving. It hurt to see her clearly distressed and unhappy. Perhaps that dragging her into an argument would have her stay just to prove her point. That had happened before. He swallowed painfully. How could she do that to him? How could she just leave and abandon them—abandon him? Could she not see that she was not a Loyalist anymore? Not as much anyway? "You don't understand," she began.

"You're being selfish. That's what I understand!"

"Selfish? Selfish?" she looked indignant. "I miss my family, James! I miss my home! I had not seen my father in years until recently, and I have not seen my mother in almost as long. Do you have any idea of what this feels like! No, of course not, how could you?"

She put her hand to her mouth as she realized what she had just said, but James' expression of anger and pain told her that he had not appreciated her comment. "Get out," he simply said.

"James, I'm sorry, I did not mean…" she stammered, looking like a frightened bird, her eyes filling with tears.

"Get out!" he shouted, his face red with emotion.

She obeyed, scared he might throw something at her, and mortified that she had even mentioned anything about him missing his parents. He would have known about it more than anyone else! She closed the door, but remained behind it. "Forgive me, I did not mean to say that," she told him through the wood panel.

"I'm not talking to you."

"Yes you are. Please, James."

He did not answer. She stood there for a while, with her forehead to the door panel, then crossed the hallway to her own room, where she closed the door and fell on her bed, crying silently.

She could not tell when she fell asleep, but the next morning, she needed a new, unwrinkled dress and felt sore from her corset stays pushing on her at a strange angle. She told herself she had deserved it.

Sarah thanked the sailor who left with her bigger pieces of luggage and was left with her hand bag. This was it, she thought, her heart beating madly in her chest. She put her bag on the ground and turned towards Henri, who was crying like a fountain. She hugged him, trying to ignore the fact that he was almost crushing her in his grip. "Be good, now," she murmured, before gently yet firmly prying his hands away from her waist.

She looked at Moses. The black man looked resigned, then somewhat surprised as she walked to him to hug him as well. Such displays of affection were common at the Franklin house, but in public, a white person hugging a black person was frowned upon. "Take care of them, Moses," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"Take care as well, Sarah," he replied, patting her back.

She let go of his strong shoulders with a sigh, then turned to James. Moses and Henri had to insist on him being there; he would have been happy to stay home and sulk. He felt miserable and ashamed, and would have preferred not to have to face her actual departure. He had not slept a lot the night before, thinking of how much of a jerk he had been with her, of how much he would miss her and her witty remarks, and her laugh.

Now, as she took a few steps towards him, would be a perfect time to apologize. It would have been wise. But somehow, he could not stand her hopeful gaze, he did not have the courage to say goodbye, so he turned away without a word.

Sara faltered to a stop when he turned away, clearly not wanting anything to do with her. "Don't do this," she pleaded, hoping he would turn around, even silent, so she could hug him properly.

He only closed his eyes to contain both his shame and tears. "I… I will write," she tried again.

The young man swiped his hand in front of him, not trusting his voice. Sarah took it as a rather rude manner of chasing her away and did not insist. She turned around and headed for the boat, picking her bag up and kissing Henri on his forehead as she went by. She concentrated on not tripping on the gangway as she stepped aboard the ship; this helped her keep a straight face when the sailors welcomed her. She disappeared somewhere inside, probably to her cabin to leave her bag there, then came back to the ship's rail to say one last goodbye to her American "family". Henri was waving his arms frantically and Moses was behind him, holding him by his shoulders. James was still facing away, his balled fists to his sides, his shoulders slumped.

Sarah waved back, then blew them a kiss, feeling the ship starting to move as if on cue. Her hand went to the pendant on her throat and her fingers curled around its crude shape. The boys had made it with help from Moses, using the ring James had from his mother. The young woman had immediately cherished it, knowing the story behind it and had never parted from it since, not even to sleep. "It's like taking them with me a little," she said to herself, letting her tears roll down her cheeks freely.

Back on land, Henri and Moses waited until the ship was at a good distance, then turned around to return to the print shop. Henri stopped where James was standing and kicked dirt on his shoes. "You are an idiot!" he spat angrily.

"I know," James admitted, while Moses was taking the little French boy away quietly.

The young man finally turned around, but the ship was far. He could still make out Sarah's small silhouette and her long, red hair, blown by the wind like a majestic pennant, but her face was a little blurry. Of course, that could have been due to that sudden moisture in his eyes as well. "_I can still see her, but I already miss her, it feels horrible!_" he thought.

He sighed. "I guess I won't have to compete for a place on the first page anymore," he said aloud, ironic.

He might have wanted that at the beginning, but now, it felt wrong. Sarah was an excellent writer with an interesting, different point of view on things… His face crinkled in pain and sorrow and he put his hand to his eyes. "Come back!" he hiccupped helplessly, ignoring the passer-bys who gave him a strange look.

After a while, a worried Moses came back on the dock to fetch him and drag him back home.

James took every opportunity to keep himself so busy he would not think about the young Englishwoman. The trip south to meet with governor Bernardo de Galvez had helped heal his wounds somewhat. It had been long, dangerous, demanding—he had almost lost Henri! When he came back, he tried to write Sarah a letter. He thought he had enough news now to send her something interesting to read and avoid most sentimental things which could have made the situation between them even more difficult than it was already. He did not know what to tell her in that regard anyway. It took him quite a while to find the proper things to write; Henri put him to shame, as he had the time to write at least twice during the same period. Granted, they were about how many toads he had caught and other assorted typical Henri-ish antics, but he had done something. It was enough to discourage the blonde journalist and he postponed—again—his writing to Sarah.

After finally reaching her homeland, an exhausted Sarah was carried home by one of John Paul Jones' sailors. She was joyfully reunited with her mother and settled back into her old habits quickly. She transcribed her account of the naval battle she had witnessed aboard the Bonhomme Richard, adding some of her own adventures, and how she had been rescued by Jones in the first place. She would send these to the Pennsylvania Gazette, along with a word or two to all three of "her men" in Philadelphia.

She had a lot of catching up to do with her mother, and they spent a lot of time talking. They also attended a few British assemblies, where Sarah realized how her country's vision of the colony had evolved—if she could call it that—and how far from her own convictions it was. This both surprised and did not at the same time. Living with Patriots for years had allowed her to see their point of view and agree with it, even if she was not as fervent as James was.

She did not feel at home in England anymore. Would America welcome her back? Would James? "_You foolish girl,_" she scolded herself as she walked in her mother's garden, "_his opinion should not matter!_"

She smelled some of the flowers. "_But it does, and you know it,_" she continued. "_That is why it hurt so much when he turned away from you._"

Her mother startled her from her thoughts by arriving and talking about the flowers. Both women talked for a while, and Sarah discovered that her mother knew her daughter a lot more than the young woman thought when she was presented with passage to America.

Although her departure to the New World was not as dramatic as the one she had lived coming to England, it was hard; both mother and daughter hated to part again, but they knew Lady Phillips would join her daughter and husband as soon as the war was over and took comfort in that.

Sarah's trip went by faster than expected—a little less than two months—and she arrived in Philadelphia at the end of summer. It felt strange not to have anyone waiting for her on the docks, but she felt happy to set foot on land. She arranged for her bigger luggage to be kept safe until she could come back with a carriage to fetch it, then set off on foot towards the print shop. "_What are they going to say? What are they going to think?_" she worried as she went.

She entered the print shop, calling to see if anyone was there. The place was deserted; they were probably running an errand close by. The young woman left her bag on the floor close to the press and went farther inside the house, into Benjamin Franklin's laboratory. Everything was as she remembered: a table with assorted knickknacks here, the glass armonica there… with a smile, she took something on the table but looked up as she heard voices in the print shop. Moses! James!

The two men walked in the shop, but stopped in their tracks when they saw the traveling bag on the floor. They looked at each other, then at the stairway which lead to the other rooms. Like an apparition, Sarah was standing there, her face lit up by a hopeful smile. "Sarah!" the black man exclaimed, laughing.

She walked toward him and he took her in a bear hug, spinning her around in his powerful arms. "Welcome home!" he added as he put her back down.

James stood there, half stunned. She was back… she was back! His beautiful little—wait! What was he thinking? He tapped his foot impatiently. It was not the time for sentimental things. Not in front of Moses anyway.

Sarah had turned slightly so she would face both men. "I realized many things while I was in England," she began.

"Like what?" Moses asked.

"Like that I realized that I am more a Patriot than a Loyalist now…"

"It's about time," James muttered, but felt bad almost immediately as he knew she did not deserve such aggressiveness.

Sarah looked at him, smiling and his heart started beating faster. When he realized she was walking towards him, he thought he was going to faint. "_She's going to hug me! She's going to hug me!_" he thought, half-panicked, oblivious to whatever she said before her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

He stood awkwardly in her warm embrace, his mind reeling from one strange thought to another: "_I can't believe she's actually hugging me! I treated her like a piece of… hey, I didn't think she had to stand on tiptoes to put her chin over my shoulder… did I grow an inch or two? That would explain the problem with my shirt sleeves being a little too short… she smells good… why am I not hugging her back? Did she just say something? I think she did. Hug her, you idiot!_"

His arm went timidly to her back, barely touching her. This felt so strange. A good, yet scary strange…

Sarah had chosen to ignore the situation before her departure for England. And she had figured that the best way to settle the matter between James and herself would be by doing something he did not expect. Apparently, she had guessed right by hugging him, she thought. She could feel he was uncertain, but he did not push her away, or show anger. She thought at some point that he was warming to her because she felt his arm on her back, but that was as far as it went. He did not say anything either. Unsure of what to think of the situation, and knowing they would have to talk later, Sarah let go of James and did as nothing had happened, telling the two others about her trip to England.

She was talking fast, and using her arms to emphasize some actions, probably because she was nervous about being back, about James still staring at her strangely, about how good it felt to be back despite everything. Moses was about to slow her down when they heard a commotion outside.

All three hurried outside, where they were greeted by Henri and some unknown boy engaged in a serious fight. The black man stopped them, and Henri ran to Sarah when he noticed her there. "_It's almost a good thing this fight happened; now I can gather my thoughts and figure out what I'm going to tell her,_" James thought, a little jealous at Henri for being so spontaneous towards the young woman.

He tried to steal glances at her during the day, as they all tried to settle matters between Henri, the Tory boy and his father, who had quite rudely entered Ben Franklin's laboratory without being invited in. She caught him a few times, and smiled shyly back, offering peace that he would be more than happy to accept.

They were so busy talking with the Tory man that they did not notice that the two boys had lost interest in whatever they were saying and had decided to go play in the street, where the adults found them. If there was one thing with Henri, he was not vindictive and knew when to fight and when to have fun.

Just then, they all heard noise coming from behind them. A man was having difficulties controlling his horse, and the animal was galloping madly down the cobbled street. As the small group realized with horror that the horse was going to run over Henri and his new friend, Moses ran for them and took them away from harm, almost being hit himself in the process.

As Sarah ran to Henri, the boy's father grudgingly thanked Moses, obviously ill at ease to owe anything to a person of color. The two Tories left in good terms, however, although Moses doubted the father would remember most of what he had learned on this day. He watched them leave for a while, then gathered his "children" to take them inside and prepare a good, homecoming meal for all of them to enjoy.

"You know, I'm only letting you do this because you just arrived from England," Henri declared as Sarah tucked him in for the night.

"Right," she replied with a knowing, motherly smile.

"I'm happy you came back," he whispered to her.

"I'm happy to be here," she whispered in return, before leaning forward to kiss his head.

She exited the room, closing the door behind herself, and crossed the hallway to her own room to change and prepare for the night. As she stepped out from behind her changing screen, she donned a long, heavy robe over her shift to keep herself warm until she actually went to bed.

She sat at her dresser to brush her long hair, a ritual she found relaxing and pleasant, while thinking of the events of the day. Dinner had been busy, between Henri and herself relating their respective adventures. Moses had asked questions, interested; James had remained mostly silent, but was genuinely interested as well. The young woman had noticed his side-glances during the day. Considering how strangely he had reacted to her arrival, she was not certain of what to think. He appeared to want to talk to her, and she agreed they should, but no real opportunity arose and it ended up being nighttime before they knew it. "_There's always tomorrow, I suppose,_" she thought, before standing up and leaving her room to visit the privy one last time before going to sleep.

She did not even use a lamp. The moon was bright and she knew her way around in the backyard. After a while, she came back in and went to the kitchen to have a glass of water. She activated the pump a few times to have the water flow in, then filled her glass almost to the rim. She took a few sips, then walked back to her room, carrying the glass in one hand and holding her skirts with the other so she would not trip in the stairway.

Placing the glass on her dresser, she turned around to go and close the door she had left open and started back, putting her hand to her pendant. James was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed on his chest. "Polite and respectful people usually wait to be invited before coming through a door they knocked on," she said, remembering what he had told her during their last argument.

He cocked an eyebrow. "I didn't knock."

"Gentlemen do not barge into a lady's room," she added.

"I didn't barge in. I'm standing here."

"They do not talk back, either!"

"I never said I was a gentleman."

"Oh, Mister Hiller, you're so uncivilized!"

They stared at each other for a while, the moonlight casting a soft, bluish glow on them. Then, James gave her a smile, to which she could not help but respond in the same way, lowering her eyes and feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. Thank goodness for the somewhat poor lighting. She began playing with a lock of her hair, which, James noticed, reached her waist now that it was loose. "_I thought it would be easier if we were alone,_" he said to himself, trying to ignore the strange feeling she caused to his stomach, knowing he would have to say something. "_Something intelligent, if possible,_" he reminded himself. "So, you're a Patriot now," he said aloud.

Not exactly what he wanted to say, but it would have to do. She looked up. "I'm still scared and a little confused, but yes, my views are now more those of a Patriot than a Loyalist," came her answer in soft tones.

He nodded, then looked away. "I'm sorry," he managed to blurt out.

"Because I'm becoming a Patriot? You said it was about time this afternoon!"

"Don't remind me," he muttered, not very proud of how stupidly he had handled the situation earlier.

Sarah padded softly to where he was standing. "Are you still angry with me?" she asked, whispering.

He was startled by her closeness and stepped away from the doorframe. He moved his arm up, as if he would have wanted to touch her, but changed his mind and let it fall back down. "I shouldn't have been angry in the first place," he said

She shrugged. "I did not say pretty things myself."

He shook his head. "I provoked you."

"As always," she could not help but comment.

"And you say I'm sarcastic."

"I had a good teacher," she replied with a wry smile.

He smiled back, knowing that such jests would be part of their lives forever, no matter if they were together or apart, and that he was ready to accept it. Sarah became serious again. He felt she had something on her mind, so he waited silently. She put her arms away from her body, and whispered: "Hold me."

His smile froze in his face, and he stood silently in front of her, his heart beating furiously in his chest and his ears burning from a sudden blush. He swallowed noisily, then, as if they had decided on their own, his arms opened and she settled between them. "Sarah," he sighed, then closed his arms around her, holding on tightly.

They remained like that for a while, silent, with their eyes closed, James' cheek resting against the side of Sarah's head. The young man was happy in a way that he had not dared to hug her like that earlier; something he thought quite intimate was happening between them and he would not have wanted to share it with Moses or anyone else who could have entered the print shop.

He ran his hand up and down her back, feeling her soft, long hair between his fingers, indulging in the guilty pleasure of feeling at the same time that she was not wearing her corset underneath her robe. "I… I missed you," he whispered, his lip brushing accidentally against her ear as he said the words.

Sarah shivered at the contact, and she instinctively huddled closer, a soft: "Oh, my!" escaping her lips.

James did not know which, between her words, the way she had said them, or her breasts—which he could feel quite well against his chest now—troubled him the most. What he did know was that he did not trust himself with his own reactions to her. "This… this is not proper," he said in a low, almost throaty voice, before backing his head away from hers.

She looked up at him, a little confused herself by her own feelings. "I thought you said you weren't a gentleman?" she asked, a smile playing on her lips.

She sobered up and looked at his chest. "You're right, however," she sighed.

He nodded. "I will go now," he said, before letting go of her completely.

She nodded sadly, feeling suddenly cold as she was standing by herself.

"We'll lay out your articles on the plates tomorrow. I'll help you," he said as he stepped out of the room and turned around to face her.

"Thank you James."

"You're welcome."

He began hitting the side of his leg with his fist, nervous, uncertain of what to do or say. "Well, ehm… I'll go now."

"Okay."

"You have a good night."

"You too."

They stood, facing each other, silent and feeling a little stupid. "Ahm… now I'll go."

"Mister Hiller!" she scolded laughingly, and pushed him away before closing the door to her room.

She turned away from the door and walked to her dresser to drink, then put the glass back down. She did not feel sleepy. She lit a candle on her writing desk, and sat down, picking her quill and a crisp, blank piece of paper.

"_Dearest Mother,_

_I have arrived safely in Philadelphia after almost two months at sea. The trip to America was not as lively as the trip to England, but we did manage to see interesting things on our way here, such as large sharks! _

_The most interesting thing, however, happened tonight, when I reconciled with my fellow journalist, James Hiller. I told you I had several reasons to go back to the New World; I believe, dearest Mother, that there might be one more now…"_

End


End file.
